


Life is Not a Porno (But This is Our Scene)

by Cottonstones



Category: Panic At The Disco, Young Veins
Genre: M/M, Rough Trade
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-07-01
Updated: 2012-07-01
Packaged: 2017-11-08 23:46:33
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,608
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/448886
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cottonstones/pseuds/Cottonstones
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Ryan had come downstairs with the full intention of telling the contractor, Jon, that he could leave for the day.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Life is Not a Porno (But This is Our Scene)

**Author's Note:**

> Written for [Kink Bingo](http://kink-bingo.dreamwidth.org/).

Ryan can’t write with the steady banging that’s echoing up the stairs from his living room. He tries to write his article, but all he can hear is the sound of the contractor, Jon, hammering down the loose, bright, oak floorboards. Ryan sighs and sets his laptop aside on the comforter. 

Maybe he’ll just go downstairs and tell Jon to go home for the day. Ryan would never have purchased his new house, a fixer-upper, if he had known it would mean he’d never get his work done.

Ryan pads down the stairs in his paisley button-down and corduroy pants, his bare feet soft on the carpet-padded staircase. It’s even louder downstairs. Ryan goes from the landing into the entryway of the living room, leaning against the door frame and feeling a little awkward. He’s only really met Jon one time, someone Spencer had suggested to him.

Ryan had come downstairs with the full intention of telling Jon that he could leave for the day, that Ryan didn’t feel well or had to get his work done, something that didn’t make him sound like an asshole. He meant to tell Jon to leave, but when he actually stops and sees Jon, well…

Jon is shirtless. It makes sense. It’s been hot these last few days and, even with the living room doors open, it does nothing to cool down the inside of the house. Jon is in his jeans, work belt slung around his hips. His broad back is tanned a golden-brown from spending time fixing up the outside of Ryan’s house.

Ryan lets his eyes drink in the tanned skin, firm shoulders, the long, broad expanse of Jon’s back. Jon is on his knees, leaning back a bit so that his ass is pressing back against the heels of his sneakers. Ryan clears his throat and Jon looks over his shoulder. He has sunglasses on. He stops his hammering and grins, slipping the dark, concealing shades down his nose so that he can see Ryan clearer – or so that Ryan can see that Jon is actually looking at him. Ryan isn’t sure.

“Oh, Mr. Ross, what’s up?” Jon asks. He pushes himself up off his knees, up off the floor, and turns so that he’s facing Ryan. He’s got all this dark, slightly-curly hair and, with the sunglasses slid down, Ryan can see deep, dark eyes that he never noticed before. Jon is still shirtless and it takes everything Ryan has not to stare at his firm chest, his little bit of soft stomach, and the dark trail of hair he can see disappearing behind the fabric of Jon’s jeans.

“I…” Ryan nearly forgets why he even came down here. It’s not like he’ll be able to work now. He’s totally and completely distracted and all he wants to do is hang around downstairs and make excuses to stare at Jon. “The hammering,” Ryan manages to get out.

“Oh? Is it bothering you? I can find something else to do, Mr. Ross.”

“Ryan.”

“What?” Jon says. Ryan clears his throat. 

“You can call me Ryan.”

Jon grins wide and crooked at that. “Alright, Ryan. Is there something else you’d like me to do? I could fix the tiles in the bathroom.”

Ryan opens his mouth, but he doesn’t say anything. His throat suddenly feels dry and he can feel heat clinging to his cheeks already.

“Do you, um…are you thirsty? I’ll get us something to drink,” Ryan mumbles in lieu of a real answer. He pushes through the swinging door of the kitchen, leaving a shirtless – and, not to mention, absolutely gorgeous – Jon Walker in the living room.

He goes to his fridge and pulls it open. He has a pitcher of water, bottles of beer, and a jug of milk that might be sour. 

“Are you against drinking on the job?” Ryan calls from inside the kitchen. He hears a warm laugh and smiles in response, then the kitchen door being pushed open and the slap of sneakers against the linoleum of the kitchen floor.

“Not really, but if you expect me to be hammering afterward, don’t blame me if your floorboards are crooked,” Jon jokes. Ryan laughs. 

“I’m not too worried about it.” He turns around and passes over a cold bottle of beer. It starts sweating almost immediately. Jon cracks it open and takes a sip from it. He presses the butt of his bottle against his chest, his neck, and Ryan tries not to notice how Jon’s skin flushes a little, the slight hitch in his breath at the feeling of the icy bottle, the way his nipples are now hard.

Ryan fumbles to open his own beer and sips from it quickly. Honestly, this is probably the most he’s talked to Jon since Jon started working on his house two weeks ago. Ryan usually sticks around upstairs, working on his articles or talking to Spencer on the phone, until Jon leaves for the day. Ryan has also made it a habit of watching Jon when he worked outside, watching him bend and stretch in the sun. 

Jon sets his beer down on the counter and smiles friendly at Ryan.

“This is a nice place you’ve got here,” Jon says. “It has a nice retro feel to it.”

Ryan had his hands folded together and, when he starts talking about the house, the stained glass windows and the faux drawbridge and the moat, he gets a little too animated and his hand knocks into Jon’s beer bottle, tipping it over. Instantly, amber-colored liquid spills all over the front of Jon’s jeans. Ryan swears and stumbles over apologies as he rushes to grab a towel that’s on the black-topped counters.

Ryan is obviously not thinking clearly when he moves forward, wedging himself between the back of the bright-white island in the center of his kitchen and Jon’s front, his hand coming down to pat at Jon’s crotch. Jon flushes and moves to grab the towel. All the while, the two of them stammer out words that get lost in the chaos.

Ryan stills, though, when Jon wraps a strong hand around his wrist, thick fingers squeezing slightly. Ryan is blushing when he moves to pull his hand away. His knuckles brush the very obvious line of Jon’s bulge through his jeans. The two of them freeze, Jon’s hand still wrapped around Ryan’s wrist. Ryan lifts his gaze to Jon’s face and Jon’s cheekbones are tinged a soft pink that Ryan can see even under the tan on Jon’s face.

They’re staring at each other, gazes locked. Ryan is suddenly breathing quickly, chest tight and skin hot, his skin almost feeling on fire where Jon is touching him.

“Maybe,” Jon starts, “maybe I should go…”

Ryan doesn’t want him to go, not now, not when they’re mere inches apart and Ryan can feel the hot press of Jon’s breath against his face. Ryan shakes his head.

“Don’t.”

Ryan’s eyes flick down to Jon’s mouth and he swallows thickly, pushing away his doubt and thoughts and just going for it. Ryan leans forward and gets his mouth on Jon’s. He’s expecting to be shoved away, to possibly be hit, because he’s known this guy for all of two weeks and, as far as he’s seen, Jon seems pretty straight, so it’s not a surprise when Jon pulls away. It is, though, when he smiles and leans in again.

Jon’s hand leaves Ryan’s wrist and slides up a thin, paisley-covered arm, up his neck, until Jon’s cupping the side of Ryan’s face, tilting to create a better angle for their kiss. The kiss is soft at first, simple, but then Jon’s tongue is out and asking for entrance to Ryan’s mouth. Ryan doesn’t hesitate to let Jon in.

Jon is shorter than Ryan, but he still presses forward until Ryan’s back bumps the counter and Jon is all but attacking Ryan’s mouth. His tongue slides along Ryan’s and Ryan shivers in response. Jon pulls back a little and bites at Ryan’s lip once, twice, before he sucks Ryan’s lower lip into his mouth. A groan breaks from Ryan’s throat and that seems to only encourage Jon.

Ryan pushes his hips forward so that they meet Jon’s. He can feel Jon hard and Ryan’s rapidly joining him. There’s this buzzing under Ryan’s skin, a heat flaring out from all the points where he and Jon are touching. The kissing is good. Jon is demanding with it. Jon’s tongue maps out Ryan’s mouth, sliding behind his teeth, Jon’s tongue working in and out, fucking Ryan’s mouth.

They break away to breathe – well, more like Ryan resting his face against the naked, warm skin of Jon’s shoulder as he catches his breath. Jon’s hips roll against Ryan’s, their clothed cocks brushing together. Ryan moans against Jon’s shoulder, nipping at the skin there, brushing his mouth across Jon’s collarbones, sweat and salt and something that he thinks is unique to Jon.

Jon gets his hands on either side of Ryan’s neck, thumbs brushing the underside of Ryan’s jaw. Ryan lifts his head to look into Jon’s face.

“What do you want?” Jon asks Ryan. His mouth is close enough that their lips brush with each word. Ryan can barely think straight, his mind dizzy with pleasure. What does he want? He wants whatever Jon will give to him. He wants thick fingers skimming his body and a hot, plush mouth and a hard, aching cock. It doesn’t take long for Ryan to decide.

“I want you…will you fuck me?”

Jon’s hands tighten a little, pulsing, and he tugs Ryan close, groaning when he kisses Ryan fiercely again. Somewhere, in the back of his mind, Ryan can hear the little Spencer voice in his brain making a joke about sleeping with the help. Ryan ignores the little Spencer when Jon’s thick fingers trail down Ryan’s chest, popping the tiny buttons on Ryan’s shirt.

Ryan shrugs out of his shirt when Jon gets all the buttons taken care of. Jon runs thick, work-calloused fingers across Ryan’s skin, down his neck, sweeping across collarbones and dragging over Ryan’s nipples. Ryan shivers and Jon kisses him again and again, stealing his moans. Jon’s fingers inch lower; they touch over Ryan’s ribs, down to his clothed hips.

Ryan breaks their kiss so that he can watch Jon’s hands slowly undo Ryan’s belt. Ryan’s own hands fumbled over the knot of Jon’s tool belt when he tries to mimic Jon’s movements. Jon leans forward and kisses him fast, tongue slipping in and out of Ryan’s mouth faster than Ryan can fight to keep it there.

Jon backs up a bit and reaches back, untying his own tool belt, letting it fall to the floor with a heavy thump. Ryan is too busy watching Jon pop the button on his jeans and slide his pants down his hips to bother doing the same, but he catches up when Jon looks up at him, standing there in only his boxers, cock hard and heavy, rigid against the thin material of his boxers. Ryan takes his pants down, cheeks heating at the fact that he neglected to put on underwear today. Jon’s eyes widen at the fact.

“Where do you want to…?” Jon starts. He laughs like he’s unable to finish the question. Ryan thinks. He’s not sure about his bedroom; he’s got files spread out on his comforter and his laptop is still open with the article he had been attempting to write. He doesn’t feel like sanitizing everything in the kitchen if they fuck in here. Ryan palms his cock once, a testing stroke, and Jon’s eyes follow the movement.

“The living room? On the couch?” Ryan asks. Jon’s eyes heat up and he moves forward, seizing Ryan’s mouth in a kiss.

“Works perfectly for me.”

Ryan leads Jon through the kitchen and out into the living room. It’s made difficult with the way neither of them are willing to separate their mouths. Ryan lets his hands tangle in Jon’s mop of dark hair. The doors that lead out into the backyard from the living room are still wide open, but they’re angled away from the couch. Ryan’s not expecting any visitors, so he figures they’re safe.

Jon lowers Ryan on to the couch and Ryan wants Jon to follow right away. He wants the heavy press of Jon’s sturdy, work-toned body on top of him. Jon’s still standing, though, as Ryan spreads out on the length of the couch. He makes questioning eyes at Jon, silently begging him not to back out now.

“What are you…?” Ryan starts.

“Um…condoms…and lube?” Jon asks. He scans the living room, like he expects to find the two items hidden throughout the room. Ryan doesn’t have any squirreled away in any room besides his bedroom, which is all the way upstairs. Running upstairs with his cock so maddeningly hard and Jon right here – God, it just sounds so unappealing.

“My room…I’ll get them,” Ryan mutters. He rolls off the couch, trying not to run up to his room. He has a bad habit of falling up the stairs and coupling that with the whole naked thing? That wouldn’t be fun for anyone. Once Ryan gets to his bedroom, he frantically digs through the drawer next to his bed for a condom and his supply of lube. Admittedly, it’s been a while since he’s fucked, and the thought of Jon stretching him open makes his cock twitch, begging for his attention.

Jon’s naked by the time Ryan gets back downstairs with the supplies. Jon’s cock is full and hard, thick. Jon’s fingers are curled around himself, stroking in slow, even pulls. Ryan groans unabashedly and rushes to him, shoving the condom and lube into Jon’s free hand and kissing him rough and eager. Jon laughs against his mouth and mumbles something that sounds like ‘Can’t wait?’

Ryan gets back on the couch, the material soft under his naked skin. He lies on his back, legs splayed with one planted firmly on the wood floor. Jon strokes himself once more before he pops the cap on the bottle of lube and drizzles some onto his thick, thick fingers.

Jon settles on the end of the couch between Ryan’s spread legs, Ryan’s hard cock leaking, begging for attention from Jon. With the hand not covered in lube, Jon traces his fingers over the head of Ryan’s dick, spreading the pre-come around. Ryan’s hips jerk up slightly and he groans loudly in surprise.

It isn’t long before he feels callused fingers pressing against his hole, rubbing around it slowly. Ryan gasps and wants to press back against Jon’s probing fingers, but he can’t, it’s been too long and he’s too tight. Jon works a finger inside of him; it doesn’t feel like too much…it feels amazing, Jon pressing in deep right off the bat, blindly searching for the spot inside of Ryan that will make him see stars.

Jon works his digit out and rubs at Ryan’s hole again, tracing the ring of muscle. Ryan gasps sharply, hips jumping like his body wants to move back away from Jon – but he doesn’t want to. He wants Jon’s firm touch rubbing at him, opening him up.

“I can…another, Jon, please,” Ryan pants. He doesn’t care how long it’s been, because he needs Jon and needs him soon. Jon doesn’t hesitate to give him a second finger, but this one does hurt. Jon’s fingers are thick and Ryan thinks three might be roughly the same as a cock in his ass.

Jon works his fingers in all the way, scissoring and stretching Ryan open, slow and careful. Ryan grits his teeth; Jon must notice, because then Ryan is feeling the hot, wet, perfect heat of Jon’s tongue flicking over the head of his cock. Ryan’s eyes fly open; he doesn’t even remember closing them. He looks down at Jon, who’s staring back at him with such dark eyes, fingers moving faster now, sliding easier in and out of Ryan.

Jon opens his mouth wider, taking the head of Ryan’s cock into his mouth, his tongue pressing just under the head. He hums lightly and Ryan moans, his hips bucking a little, forcing himself more into Jon’s mouth.

“Shit, sorry, sorry,” Ryan mutters, his hand reaching out to find Jon’s head, fingers petting through his hair. Jon’s eyes fall closed and he groans around Ryan’s cock, sparks lighting up Ryan’s spine. Jon pulls off of him and Ryan fights the need to voice his disapproval. Jon flicks his tongue over the slit of Ryan’s cock before he mumbles “S’okay.”

Jon closes his mouth around the head of Ryan’s cock once again; at the same time, he presses a third finger against Ryan’s hole. Ryan mewls but keeps himself in check, keeping himself from bucking up into Jon’s mouth and pushing himself down Jon’s throat. Jon’s other fingers still and Ryan can feel just the one moving to join the two. Then, then, Jon is fucking him with three perfect, thick fingers, pushing in deep and searching for that sweet spot inside of Ryan.

When Jon finds it, Ryan lets him know with a strangled groan. Jon pulls off of Ryan’s cock, where he had been bobbing his head, unable to take much of Ryan down due to the angle. Jon kisses at the pale skin of Ryan’s thigh and Ryan can feel his grin pressing against his skin as Jon rubs the tips of his callused fingers unmercifully against Ryan’s prostate.

“Shit,” Ryan groans. He rocks his hips down, eager to gain more of his touch. This could easily turn into too much for Ryan’s sex-denied body to take, the hard press of Jon’s fingers against his prostate and the small little licks Jon’s giving the base of his cock. It could quickly become too much, judging by the heat pooling thick and hot in Ryan’s stomach, spreading though his body.

“Jon, Jon, you gotta stop…fuck, it’ll be over too quick,” Ryan pants. Jon draws back from him almost reluctantly, his fingers slipping out of him. Ryan feels too empty and whimpers, but it _is_ what he wanted, what he needed, to hold on long enough for Jon’s cock to be inside of him.

Ryan props himself up a bit and watches as Jon opens the condom packet with shiny fingers, slicking the condom on over his own hard dick. Ryan’s mouth practically waters at the sight. Jon catches him watching and flicks his head to the side, the slight curls that had been hanging down into his eyes bouncing out of the way so that Jon can see Ryan clearly.

Jon smiles and lowers himself so that he’s stretched out over Ryan, but he’s holding himself up so that his belly would brush against Ryan’s dick. Jon’s face is right in front of Ryan’s and he smiles before he leans down, capturing Ryan’s mouth in a hot, sweet kiss.

“How do you want it?” Jon breathes against Ryan’s mouth.

“This, this is good,” Ryan mumbles. He’s eager and wants Jon inside, filling him up in a way he hasn’t been in so long. Jon kisses him once more before he pulls back and settles between Ryan’s spread thighs. Ryan plants his foot firmer on the floor, the other curled around Jon.

Jon, though, grabs up Ryan’s thin thighs and hauls Ryan’s body closer until the slick, blunt head of his cock is pressing against his entrance and Ryan’s ass is flush against Jon’s thighs. Ryan gets his heels hooked over Jon’s broad, muscular shoulders. Jon wraps his hand around the base of his cock and then he’s guiding himself into Ryan.

It hurts at first, the stretch of his body as he tries desperately to take Jon, but Ryan’s body gives and Jon pushes inside. He doesn’t get in all of the way in one thrust; Ryan’s too tight and it’s been so long. Ryan bites at his lip and Jon grunts, his one hand wrapped around Ryan’s thigh. He squeezes as he slides in the rest of the way, bottoming out.

They stay that way for a long moment. Ryan is trying to catch his breath, breathe past the pain of Jon’s hard cock fully inside of him. “Fuck, Jon, move, please,” Ryan grits out. Jon ruts slowly, pulling out just short of all the way before he pushes smoothly back inside.

They groan together, Jon pulling Ryan closer with strong, firm hands. Jon leans down. Ryan feels like he’s being bent in half, his knees bumping his chest. Jon is going slow, so slow, his cock dragging in and out of Ryan. Ryan gets his arms up and his blunt nails dig into Jon’s broad back. Jon grunts and tilts his head so that he can kiss Ryan once again.

Jon’s slow pace picks up the longer they fuck. He’s going faster now, harder. The loud sound of Jon’s hips slapping against Ryan’s ass as he pounds into Ryan fill the room, echoing around the still-barren walls. Jon is brushing against Ryan’s prostate on every other thrust, sparks lighting up behind Ryan’s eyes. He bites his lip and arches his body, moaning desperately. 

“Jon,” Ryan moans. “Jon, wait, wait.”

Jon stops moving, stills, and looks down at Ryan with worried eyes. “What? Are you alright?”

“Yeah, I just – can I ride you?” Ryan asks. Jon’s eyes grow even darker and he groans.

“Fuck, yes, yes,” Jon says. He lowers Ryan’s legs, kisses him, and moves so that he slips out of Ryan. Ryan misses the feeling of Jon inside of him as soon as he’s gone. Jon shuffles so that he’s lying on the end of the couch, opposite to Ryan’s end. Ryan pushes himself up crawls so that he’s straddling Jon.

Jon gets a hand on Ryan’s hip, thumb rubbing against the bone; his other hand holds his own cock so that Ryan can sink down onto him. Jon moans, his body twitching underneath Ryan. Ryan pushes back until Jon is once again buried completely inside of him.

They stay like that for a long moment, connected and breathing heavily, and then Ryan pulls up a bit, starting to rock slowly back and forth. Jon’s fingers bite into Ryan’s hips. He tries to let Ryan control the pace, but Ryan shifts and sinks down on Jon’s cock quick and Jon’s hips buck, thrusting into Ryan hard. Ryan moans at the feel of the blunt head of Jon’s cock brushing his prostate and his shaking hand spreads out on Jon’s muscled chest for leverage. 

Ryan lifts himself almost completely off of Jon before he drops back down. Jon slides a hand up Ryan’s thigh and holds on, thick fingers biting in. Jon fucks up into Ryan every time Ryan comes down, hitting his prostate, and Ryan’s fingers dig into the skin of Jon’s chest, moans ripping from this throat and most likely floating out the opened glass doors.

Jon’s not loud. There are noises, but they’re not loud. Jon groans every time Ryan slides back down on his cock and lets out bitten-off grunts when he thrusts up into Ryan. They’re both sweating from the already-heated room and the additional heat of skin meeting skin. Jon’s hair is matted to his forehead, slipping into his eyes, and Ryan leans down, changing the angle slightly and brushing away the hair to kiss Jon.

The hand on Ryan’s hip is holding him down firmly, keeping him down so that Jon can fuck up into him rapidly. Ryan is bent forward, his face pressed against Jon’s shoulder. He slams his hips against Ryan’s ass, Ryan’s hard, leaking cock rubbing against Jon’s stomach.

“Shit, Jon, fuck,” Ryan moans against Jon’s skin. He presses a kiss to Jon’s shoulder and buries his face in his neck. Ryan’s getting too close to the edge to keep up his rhythm of riding Jon’s cock. His moves are sloppy and his fingers slide in the sheen of sweat covering Jon’s body.

Jon is smart. He collects Ryan in his arms and tips backwards until Ryan’s on his back on the couch once again and Jon’s back is against the arm of the couch, Ryan’s long legs wrapped tight around his waist as Jon drives into him hard. Ryan’s body slides against the fabric of the couch with each hard, brutal thrust from Jon.

Ryan wraps his hand around his cock and jerks himself off sloppy, quick strokes, thumb rubbing over the head, pressing against the leaking slit. He bites his lip as Jon squeezes his hips. His whole body is trembling with the white-hot heat spreading out through his body.

The world diminishes down to just him and Jon on the couch, the hot crush of their bodies, and the sweet slick of Jon’s mouth against his ear, panting soft obscenities. Jon’s hands are hot and firm where they’re clutching Ryan’s sharp hips and Ryan’s heels are digging into Jon’s lower back.

Jon is fucking him so deep, deep and hard, utterly perfect.

Ryan whines high in his throat as he squeezes at his dick. He’s so close; he just needs a little more, just something else from Jon. Like Jon’s reading his mind, he hikes Ryan’s hips up and screws into him, hitting his prostate full on.

Ryan’s head goes black. He wishes he could see the two of them like this, Jon flushed and fucking him and his own body stretched and bowing upwards, one hand on his cock and the other clutching uselessly at the material of the couch, looking for purchase.

Jon keeps fucking him that way, hard thrusts that push against his prostate and make Ryan’s mind lose track.

“Jon, Jon, I’m, I’m – ” Ryan doesn’t even get to finish his sentence before he’s coming over his hand, his own stomach, and Jon’s chest. Jon fucks him through it relentlessly as Ryan slumps down, boneless and sated. Ryan’s still touching at his dick, pumping out the last few drops of pearly come. 

It doesn’t take Jon long, just a handful of hard thrusts and then he’s kissing Ryan and his hips are jerking against Ryan’s ass as he comes. They still. Jon’s whole body flushes against Ryan’s. Ryan brings his clean hand up to card through Jon’s sweaty curls. Jon places soft, damp kisses against the crook of Ryan’s neck.

Jon nuzzles against Ryan’s neck, trailing his mouth upwards over Ryan’s cheek. He bumps their noses and then finds Ryan’s mouth. He presses a soft kiss to Ryan’s mouth before his tongue snakes inside. They kiss slow and lazy while they catch their breath.

Jon moves off of Ryan, worming onto his side with his back against the couch, his hand on Ryan’s messy stomach. Ryan’s hot and sweaty, sticky with come, and he needs a shower, badly. Jon slides off the condom and ties it up, setting it on the floor. He’s got Ryan’s come on him and he’s sweating, but he looks happy and satisfied.

“I need a shower,” Ryan says as he sweats into the couch. Jon hums in agreement. Ryan turns his head to look over at Jon. His house still has a lot of work that needs completed, so Jon will be around for a long, long time.

“Do you want to join me?” Ryan says with a smile. Jon laughs and gets his fingers on Ryan’s chin, tipping his face so that Jon can kiss him lightly. Ryan definitely is taking that as a ‘yes.’


End file.
